


Lifelines and shackles

by intheKnickoftime



Category: Purple Hyacinth (Webcomic)
Genre: DANGIT LAUKI why are y’all so complicated, Enemies to Allies to Friends to Enemies to Tentative Allies to-, F/M, First Meeting, Soulmate AU, This got WAY LONGER than intended but ghhh we’re rolling with it, We love em though don’t we?? yep, angst and sadness ahoy, heck yea, soulmate AU- first words edition, switching POVs, this was so fun to write bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24459979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intheKnickoftime/pseuds/intheKnickoftime
Summary: Sometimes soulmates were designated from the very start, tied at birth.Other times… their marks did not appear at first, but rather after significant events, which tied their paths together and would directly lead to their meeting.If Kieran and Lauren were soulmates, the first words they spoke to each other inscribed on their wrists.
Relationships: Kieran White & Lauren Sinclair, Kieran White/Lauren Sinclair
Comments: 21
Kudos: 150
Collections: Purple Hyacinth Soulmate AU





	Lifelines and shackles

**Author's Note:**

> IT HAS BEEN EIGHTY FOUR YEARS.
> 
> I kept swearing I would finish this and it kept getting longer... and longer... and long story short I just hope it’s coherent now. Make of this what you will.

Lauren’s soulmate mark appeared when she was twelve years old. November 13, XX17- the day of the Allendale bombing.

As she crouched there among the ashes, her dress smudged and her face streaked with tears, clutching a patched-up hat to her chest, she felt it- a prickling at her wrist, like it was being jabbed by a pen. She sniffed and looked down, unseeingly, at the black words being scrawled across her wrist, as though by an invisible hand.

She didn’t pay them any mind, at first. The promise of a soulmate in the future seemed dimmed by all the death and destruction before her _now._

Dylan hadn’t been her soulmate, nor she his. Both of them had known that. But she had loved him nonetheless. Right now the loss of her best friend stung sharper than any future joy her soulmate might bring.

_I’ll- I should have- the lies-_ her thoughts were fragmented, scattering and whirling down broken trails. And one above all.

_I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. I sent you to your death. Dylan-_

_-I’ll make this right._

She had always wanted to be a police officer. Now that dream took on a different tinge- a desire to find the truth behind this tragedy, and see those responsible brought to justice.

In that moment, in the shadow of that revelation, her fate became tied to another’s.

Lauren did not grasp this at the time- nor did she even take the time to read the words marking her until she was back home, after her parents had embraced her and cried with her over the loss of the Rosenthals- for beyond being their gardeners, Dylan and his father had been _friends-_ and Lauren sat alone in a chair, tears still dampening her cheeks and catching her eyelashes. 

She had seen her parents’ eyes stray to her wrist, noting the appearance of the black markings. She had noticed the brief disconnect, the tinge of worry that had clouded their eyes.

Now she understood why.

_Don’t even bother. I’ll be gone before you finish reading me my rights._

Even through the muddling haze of grief in her mind, even being twelve years old, Lauren felt a shiver of… something like anticipation and worry in one.

_What sort of person have I been tied to?_

\- - - - -

The Purple Hyacinth did not caught. He was a phantom killer- fitting, Kieran thought with a wry chuckle, given the organization he belonged to.

The police had never even seen him- let alone laid hands on him.

And yet-

_You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law._

Kieran scowled, tugging his bloodstained glove farther up his wrist, covering the markings that remained there. Those words were both a promise and a death knell.

A promise that there was someone destined for him.

A warning that someday he would be caught- by that very person.

The death knell had already sounded for the man in front of him, now slumped in the center of a crimson stain. Kieran wondered briefly if this target of his had a soulmate, then banished the thought from his head as fast as it had come. Not worth dwelling on. He sheathed his sword, turning his gaze away from the body.

All these years later, he still wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or worry about that idea. Nowadays he would lean toward laughing- but at fourteen years old when the marks had appeared, the indication of being arrested by his soulmate had been a lot more concerning.

Kieran shook his head, brows furrowing once more.

He was being ridiculous.

The Purple Hyacinth did not get caught.

~~_Who could have been destined for a monster like him, in any case?_ ~~

A single hyacinth fluttered down in his wake, its gentle brush looking suited for anywhere but a crime scene. The petals touched down in the spreading blood.

The curtain at the window fluttered as Kieran departed.

\- - - - -

_Several years later._

  
  


“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.”

Whatever dazedness the kick to his face had given Kieran abruptly vanished. 

_It’s_ **_her_ ** _._

A thousand possible responses crowded onto his tongue, and one of them slipped out before he could even fully process it.

“Don’t even bother,” he smirked, tilting his head as much as he could to peer up at ~~his soulmate~~ his _captor._ “I’ll be gone before you finish reading me my rights.”

He _felt_ her reaction to those words, the shocked tightening of the hand gripping his wrists, the twitch of the gun at his back.

“No,” she breathed. “Not you.” Her hands were trembling now.

“I do apologize for not bringing you flowers, darling,” Kieran said, giving his best approximation of a shrug. “But one never really knows when you might encounter-”

“Don’t say it,” she choked out, gripping his bound wrists almost painfully. “I had thought- but never-”

“What, never considered that your soulmate might not be some knight in shining armor?” Kieran bit back a laugh. “I’ve spent the past ten years wondering what might lead me to be _arrested_ by my soulmate. Considering you’re the one on top, I don’t see why you’re so upset by this.”

_Yes you do,_ chimed his head. _Who in their right mind would want a criminal a killer a_ **_monster-_ ** _no matter what ‘fate’ says-_

“An assassin,” she said, her voice still oddly constricted. “I never thought-”

“Nice to meet you too, officer,” he said, grinning.

“Shut up,” she hissed. “You just committed murder. You’re not getting off the hook anytime soon- no matter _what_ my mark may or may not say.”

The arm gripping her pistol moved, and Kieran felt the cold press of the revolver’s barrel at his temple.

“Ha!” Kieran barked, beginning to laugh in earnest now. “Darling, we both know you’re not going to shoot me.”

“Because of your wrist?” She snarled. “Think again. I am a police officer, and I have been trained to shoot when necessary. Don’t move.”

The other hand strayed from the handcuffs she’d fastened around his wrists to the radio at her belt.

“You won’t kill me,” Kieran said. “I’m an assassin, dear- I can recognize murderous intent when I see it. Make as many pronouncements as you like, but we both know you won’t pull that trigger.”

“An assassin?” Her hand stilled. “Are you with the Phantom Scythe, then?”

“ **Of course not,”** Kieran chuckled. **“I answer only to myself.”**

“I see,” she said. He could feel her shifting her weight to better pin him while she considered this. The gun’s barrel slipped for the briefest of moments and then righted itself as she snapped back to focus.

“I can’t wait to find out everything you know about the Phantom Scythe,” she growled, something like victory and hatred and desperation and hope all at once sparking in her gaze. 

“I told you, love- **I’m not Phantom Scythe,”** Kieran said, more to rile her than anything else. He remembered the scene from the cafe earlier that morning- the peculiar lie-detecting skill she seemed to have. And sure enough, at the lie he saw her eyes flare and her jaw clench again, and found himself smiling in the face of her wrath. He was going to have a lot of fun needling this woman.

“It’s personal for you,” he murmured, more to himself than anything, studying the lines of her face. “Your hatred. The Scythe took someone from you.” 

“Shut up,” she growled again, her voice taut and choked, the emotion flaring once more behind her eyes confirming his statement.

“Believe it or not, you and I share the same goal,” Kieran said. “I want the leader gone just as much as you do. We could help each other-”

“Never,” she grit out. “Not with a murderer like you. I don’t care what my wrist or yours says. I won’t help you.”

“Now that _is_ a shame,” Kieran said, snapping his wrists outward, breaking neatly out of his restraints and twisting them around so that he was on top, looking down into her fiery golden eyes. Her gun skittered to the side, out of reach. “With a lie-detecting ability like yours? You would have been quite the useful partner. Even if we weren’t sure of right answers, undoubtedly you would be able to help me cross off some wrong ones.”

“How did you-?” She gaped at him, writhing against his hold. He wasn’t sure if she was questioning his breaking free, or his belief in her lie-detecting skill.

“Tell you what,” Kieran said, grinning crookedly down at her. “I’m feeling generous- I know shaking hands with a devil requires some forethought. If you decide you want to help me, I’ll be at the bridge tomorrow night- midnight sharp. If not…” 

He pushed off of her, getting neatly to his feet and extending a hand to her as well. The officer took it, still glaring, like she wanted to leap at him again but didn’t want to invite defeat. 

“...if not, then it really has been nice meeting you, my dear.” He took a few steps away, already distancing himself, ready to vault over the wall she’d stopped him from reaching.

“I apologize again for not bringing flowers- though I did leave some for your police department friends to find. You’ll see soon enough.”

With a wink and a cheerful wave, he left her behind, disappearing down the alleyway before she could question him further.

\- - - - -

His sketches that night were full of fierce eyes and rooftop chases and words that bound wrists like a tether.

\- - - - -

Lauren was faced with the desire to smack herself approximately seventeen times on her way to meet the assassin- the _Purple Hyacinth._

Oh, how fate must be laughing at her. Of _all_ the criminals she might have been tethered to- her soulmate was, apparently, the worst killer Ardhalis had ever seen.

Splendid.

And yet she hadn’t informed on him. She had lied about seeing his face. She had not disclosed the time and location of this meeting.

In spite of herself, she found herself drawn to his proposal.

_(Not to him,_ she told herself. Not at all. Only the deal.)

And so despite all her better instincts and good sense, Lauren introduced herself to a devil who turned out to be named Kieran White.

And Lune was born. Two sides of a coin, two faces of a moon. Equals and opposites, bound not only by their bloody handshake but also by fate itself, if the words on her wrist were to be believed.

She would work alongside him, but she would not- _could not-_ love him. Not now, not ever.

(Oh, how fate laughed at the pair of them.)

\- - - - -

She was his lifeline, tethering the last of his humanity. He both loved and hated it- the reminder of his lost innocence both bitter and sweet on his tongue.

He was her shackle, pulling her into the dark she swore she’d never touch. She both loved and hated it- the unclean feeling of their nighttime vigilantism, the leads and information, circling the truth like a hunting cat, creeping close through the shadows.

They were bound in more ways than one, whether they admitted it or not.

\- - - - -

An officer could not love an assassin. She could not, _would_ not be warmed by his smile and his company.

And a monster could not love someone like her. He could not, _would_ not taint her and drag her into the dark. Nor would he allow her to bring him into the light, for fear that a full view of his scars and stains and bruises and broken edges would drive her away for good.

They remained at an impasse.

(Oh, how fate sighed at the pair of them.)

\- - - - -

“Next time things go to hell because of you, I’m letting you burn.”

He meant it when he said it, and because he did she did not see it as a lie.

And yet, and yet- he had pulled her from the roof’s edge. Unwilling to leave the dark or enter the light, but unable to let her go.

\- - - - -

“How can I trust you after this, Kieran?”

She hadn’t realized how far along the precipice their dance had taken her until her hands, too, had become stained with blood- indirectly, perhaps, but she felt the blood of their convicts on her hands almost as thought she had taken up Kieran’s sword herself.

“Hell, what am I even _doing_ with you?”

She remembered the flashes of humanity he had shown, the late nights and fleeting connections they’d shared, when she had allowed herself for the briefest of moments to _consider_ that maybe fate hadn’t been entirely wrong-

And now he stood before her, dull-eyed and impassive. She didn’t understand how, in the wake of such a bloodbath, he could emerge unscathed and put together as always. This was not a man standing before her. This was not her soulmate- Kieran White was a devil, just as he’d said- a monster she could not ally herself with any longer.

  
  


\- - - - -

And yet that monster had _known_ her, she realized later, safely tucked within the precinct’s gym, attempting to beat the guilt and shame and bloodstains from her head and hands.

_This guilt never leaves._

She remembered the bombing once more, Dylan’s cap at her feet and Kieran’s words appearing on her wrist. They had been tied, she realized, by her determination to find justice. Fated to share a goal, and become Lune.

She smiled, a crooked and broken thing, recalling how she had once thought of a soulmate mark as a _promise_ of brighter things ahead.

Instead she and her monster had waded into the dark, and she had- 

Lauren rested her head against the punching bag, sighing.

Kieran had, for his part, been right. The knowledge terrified and enraged and _hurt_ her, because of all the people she’d known, the fact that _Kieran_ had been the one to cut to the heart of her own folly was galling. She didn’t understand how he had understood that which she herself had been blind to.

_That’s what a soulmate is,_ her mother had said once. _Someone you know heart and soul, and are known by in return._

_Some people run from theirs, because the idea of being known like that is too frightening._

Lauren gave a shaky laugh at the memory. She wondered what her parents would have said about Kieran.

The fact that, even after all of it, a small part of her still _wanted_ to be known like that, to face the bruising truth at the hands of a monster- _her_ monster, her very own devil-

-it was almost too much.

(Oh, how fate wept at the pair of them.)

\- - - - -

Three days into his new job, Kieran considered that this might be the Scythe’s idea of a joke.

Perhaps they knew about Lune after all, and were simply waiting for him and Lauren to destroy each other.

They didn’t know the half of it, he thought, fingers straying involuntarily to his wrist, covered by the long sleeves of his new uniform.

If looks could kill, he at least would have dropped dead already. Lauren might have managed to keep her rage in check for their first meeting, but that hadn’t stopped her from shooting suspicious (possibly murderous) glances his way at every opportunity.

It was a wonder nobody had caught on- though, Kieran thought, recalling the sharp tawny gaze of Lauren’s friend the sergeant, and the thoughtful aura of the lieutenant, and even the darkly observant air of the officer known as “Grumpy Cat,” it was entirely possible that some suspicions had already been birthed.

\- - - - -

_“If you hurt them-_ **_any_ ** _of them,” Lauren had seethed at him that first night, when she had cornered him in the archive room, looking positively aflame between her red hair and Kieran’s flickering lantern._

_“I’m not here for any of them, darling,” he had said from where she pressed him to the wall. She had forgone a gun in favor of a tidy little dagger at his throat. “The Scythe wants me to kill Lune.”_

_“Lune is already dead,” she had breathed between her teeth, eyes boring into his. There was the slightest of quavers to the statement, matching the way Kieran’s heart twists uncomfortably at the words._

_He knew she meant it, the same way he had meant it when he’d said he would let her burn._

_Sincere now, and yet. Try as they might, they could not rid themselves of the other._

_They would collide again. In what manner, he was not certain. But the bond between them would not be broken so easily as that._

_He wanted to try and mend things- but the thought of facing her anger left Kieran not with hope, but with something like dread in the pit of his stomach. The thought of baring himself to another person was, after all these years of working alone, a new and frightening idea._

\- - - - -

Their collision was nearly literal, and very nearly fatal. 

Lauren had gone to the Carmine Camellia alone, intending to do what reconnaissance she could on their one lead.

Kieran had showed up too. Of course he had.

They had nearly run into each other, two figures in black skulking the hallways. Not quite their Lune outfits- both had forgone their customary top hats, Lauren in favor of a hood, Kieran donning nothing at all to cover his tightly tied hair.

A silent standoff- shock, defense, recognition. Blue eyes meeting gold, words weighing down their tongues in the silence. An oppressive air of familiarity surrounded them- both knew the other was thinking of Lune.

And then guards had shown up. Of course they had.

\- - - - -

“This feels familiar, somehow,” Kieran said, actually daring to grin at her.

“Shut up and let me fix you,” Lauren said, focusing on his wounded arm. They had made it out, but when scaling the outer wall Kieran had faltered, grazed by a bullet.

She could have let him fall, left him to his fate.

Part of her still thought she should have.

And yet she had found herself hauling him up and over with her, making the trek through darkened streets to his apartment again.

Full circle, in a way. 

Dabbing at the wound caused him to hiss, muscles tensing under her touch.

“Stop wincing- it’s only alcohol,” she said, her words an echo of his own. How long had it been since then? A week? She shook away the faint smile threatening to appear at the memory.

“I’m still angry with you,” she insisted.

“And nonetheless I find myself thanking you,” Kieran murmured, eyes glinting with something like amusement.

“Yeah, well. If anyone’s going to kill you, I’d rather it be me,” Lauren said, giving his wound a once-over before turning away. “You’ll be fine. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” The hour was late, and much as she wanted to sink down onto a couch, she didn’t know if she could stand another impossibly quiet moment in his home like this.

As she walked home, keeping to the shadows, she found herself tracing the words on her wrist.

\- - - - -

Kieran’s sketches that night were of camellias and revolvers and eyes- always, always her eyes.

\- - - - -

For a pair supposed to be disbanded, Kieran and Lauren found themselves comparing notes on their findings at the Camellia far more than two disassociated vigilantes were expected to.

\- - - - -

It was not quite Lune, this halfway renewed arrangement of theirs.

But it was a start.

(Fate watched the pair of them closely, smiling like it knew something they did not.)

But they did know, deep down- they were destined to collide, to separate and then collide again, at odds but always in tandem. Two sides of a coin. Equals and opposites. 

Perhaps those marks on their wrists had not been so wrong after all. For after all- they _knew_ each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Haaaaaa what fools they are. And what fools we all are for them, too. :’)
> 
> As I type this my phone is dying steadily. Yes, I finished this up on mobile. No, I would not recommend it at all.
> 
> Kudos and comments are day brighteners as always. <3


End file.
